Chapter 3 S.S. Manor
By, Silver Lighting
'Oh carp' was, in Harry's mind, the perfect way to think about staying with Snape for the summer. He had barely gotten out of the massive stone fire place before it 'hit the fan,' so to speak.
"Potter! What do you think your doing?!" Snape yelled at him. His greasy black hair now had a fine line of gray on one side, where some of the soot had blown up at him. He was presently looking down his hooked nose at Harry, who looked quite peculiar standing on the clean wood floor covered in ash.
Looking Snape right in his bottomless, black eyes, Harry answered, "I was told by Headmaster Dumbledore to come here, by way of Floo powder."
Just then, there was a audible 'pop' and the Headmaster himself stood beside Harry. "Hello Severus. I trust all is well?" Acting as if there *wasn't* a noticeable tension between student and teacher, Dumbledore walked over to one of the dark, green wing back chairs that faced the fire place and sat down slowly. "Did you get my owl?"
"What owl?" Snape said, walking over to the chair that faced Dumbledore, leaving Harry to stand and look around at the bookshelves filled with gloomy leather bond books. From what Harry could see, most were about the dark arts, with titles like, 'When the Great Fall', and 'Dark Lords and their Powers'. Harry got a shiver just thinking about some of the things in these books. Turning back to the two elders, Harry listened in on their conversation.
"I sent you an owl this morning, it should have been here by now, . . . Oh! There it is!" With the glee of a young child, Dumbledore jumped from his seat and walked past Harry, toward the large floor to ceiling window, throwing it open and letting in a brown owl. Sure enough, there, tied to it's leg, was a letter with the words, 'S.S.' wrote across the top.
"A little late, don't you think?" Snape sneered.
"Oh well, its an old owl." And it was. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Dumbledore had used an elderly owl so that Snape wouldn't get the letter in time to refuse. But the Headmaster wouldn't do that…..Would he?
~*~*
The black sky was alit with many white stars, shining brightly to unknown peoples. Harry was currently in one of the many bedrooms that covered the 3rd floor of Snape Manor. He'd watched as Snape had used every argument he had to get out of watching Harry for the next two mouths. But, as the Americans' say, no dice. So two people that wanted nothing to do with each other were left to avoid and remain out of each others way.
After the Headmaster had left, Snape had told him, very softly, "You will go into no room but yours, the study and library, the kitchen and dinning area. Otherwise, I'd best not catch you sneaking around like you do at school. Is that understood?"
To which Harry had looked up at him with his dull, green eyes and nodded his head, before turning and going up the finely craved staircase, joining the nervous house elf who was to show him to his room, leaving behind a narrowed eyed professor and a quiet, tension filled room.
That was the last time he'd seen the professor, sometime around noon, and now it was an hour past midnight. The rolling in his stomach told him that he hadn't eaten anything all day.
Walking in his slow manner, Harry made his way out of his room, down the hall, where he passed many dust covered doors, to the main staircase. After reaching the main floor, Harry made a left, going in the opposite direction of the study. Walking past the huge dinning area, Harry found a revolving door that he assumed lead into the kitchen. Pushing his way in, Harry found that he was right; a few feet in front of him was an old timely ice box, a black, wood-burning stove, and a cutting block island. The picture the kitchen made was very homely. Harry figured that Snape never came in here much.
Thinking that no one would mind, Harry got a loft of bread, some cheese and a small bit of ham. Also, in the ice box, he found some bottles of butterbeer. Taking only one, and his sandwich, which was tightly wrapped in two napkins, Harry was making sure his mess was cleaned up when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.
"Potter, why aren't you in bed?" asked Snape, as he stared down at Harry's stiff back.
Harry turned around very slowly and looked up at his postions professor dispassionately. Holding up his hands, he stated the obvious. "I got hungry, sir."
"Didn't you have dinner? Their was enough for you." This was said in a tone that someone who cared might use. Harry didn't understand the older man's sudden change of heart. Then he remembered what the headmaster had told Snape in a hushed whisper before he'd left. "His uncle says his not eating and he never sleeps. His aunt says that she's find napkins filled with food in the trash; says that he was making it look like he was eating when he wasn't. Just make sure he eats something." That was all Harry had heard before he'd turned away, not wishing to hear the two disscuss about him as if he weren't there; he got enough of that at the Dursleys'.
Taking in a deep breath, Harry said, very calmly, "I don't know what all Dumbledore told you, but I don't need a keeper." With that, he pushed the door open and headed up to his room. Once there, Harry found that his hunger had abandoned him. Laying his food and drink on the desk, he walked over to the massive window that was to the left of his bed. Climbing onto the sill, he sat with his legs pulled into his chest and his chin resting on his up drawn knees. There, he watched a shooting star fly across the moon lit sky, and prepared to sit out another long, lonely night.
Unknown to him, his door was ajar, and Snape was looking in on the boy, knowing that he had no right to tell the him what to do and wishing he could just order him to eat. Without making any noise, Snape pulled the door shut and walked with a heavy heart to his own room, knowing that he, too, would be watching the night sky and fretting about the demons that stalked his new ward.
By, Silver Lighting
'Oh carp' was, in Harry's mind, the perfect way to think about staying with Snape for the summer. He had barely gotten out of the massive stone fire place before it 'hit the fan,' so to speak.
"Potter! What do you think your doing?!" Snape yelled at him. His greasy black hair now had a fine line of gray on one side, where some of the soot had blown up at him. He was presently looking down his hooked nose at Harry, who looked quite peculiar standing on the clean wood floor covered in ash.
Looking Snape right in his bottomless, black eyes, Harry answered, "I was told by Headmaster Dumbledore to come here, by way of Floo powder."
Just then, there was a audible 'pop' and the Headmaster himself stood beside Harry. "Hello Severus. I trust all is well?" Acting as if there *wasn't* a noticeable tension between student and teacher, Dumbledore walked over to one of the dark, green wing back chairs that faced the fire place and sat down slowly. "Did you get my owl?"
"What owl?" Snape said, walking over to the chair that faced Dumbledore, leaving Harry to stand and look around at the bookshelves filled with gloomy leather bond books. From what Harry could see, most were about the dark arts, with titles like, 'When the Great Fall', and 'Dark Lords and their Powers'. Harry got a shiver just thinking about some of the things in these books. Turning back to the two elders, Harry listened in on their conversation.
"I sent you an owl this morning, it should have been here by now, . . . Oh! There it is!" With the glee of a young child, Dumbledore jumped from his seat and walked past Harry, toward the large floor to ceiling window, throwing it open and letting in a brown owl. Sure enough, there, tied to it's leg, was a letter with the words, 'S.S.' wrote across the top.
"A little late, don't you think?" Snape sneered.
"Oh well, its an old owl." And it was. If Harry didn't know better, he'd think that Dumbledore had used an elderly owl so that Snape wouldn't get the letter in time to refuse. But the Headmaster wouldn't do that…..Would he?
~*~*
The black sky was alit with many white stars, shining brightly to unknown peoples. Harry was currently in one of the many bedrooms that covered the 3rd floor of Snape Manor. He'd watched as Snape had used every argument he had to get out of watching Harry for the next two mouths. But, as the Americans' say, no dice. So two people that wanted nothing to do with each other were left to avoid and remain out of each others way.
After the Headmaster had left, Snape had told him, very softly, "You will go into no room but yours, the study and library, the kitchen and dinning area. Otherwise, I'd best not catch you sneaking around like you do at school. Is that understood?"
To which Harry had looked up at him with his dull, green eyes and nodded his head, before turning and going up the finely craved staircase, joining the nervous house elf who was to show him to his room, leaving behind a narrowed eyed professor and a quiet, tension filled room.
That was the last time he'd seen the professor, sometime around noon, and now it was an hour past midnight. The rolling in his stomach told him that he hadn't eaten anything all day.
Walking in his slow manner, Harry made his way out of his room, down the hall, where he passed many dust covered doors, to the main staircase. After reaching the main floor, Harry made a left, going in the opposite direction of the study. Walking past the huge dinning area, Harry found a revolving door that he assumed lead into the kitchen. Pushing his way in, Harry found that he was right; a few feet in front of him was an old timely ice box, a black, wood-burning stove, and a cutting block island. The picture the kitchen made was very homely. Harry figured that Snape never came in here much.
Thinking that no one would mind, Harry got a loft of bread, some cheese and a small bit of ham. Also, in the ice box, he found some bottles of butterbeer. Taking only one, and his sandwich, which was tightly wrapped in two napkins, Harry was making sure his mess was cleaned up when he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him.
"Potter, why aren't you in bed?" asked Snape, as he stared down at Harry's stiff back.
Harry turned around very slowly and looked up at his postions professor dispassionately. Holding up his hands, he stated the obvious. "I got hungry, sir."
"Didn't you have dinner? Their was enough for you." This was said in a tone that someone who cared might use. Harry didn't understand the older man's sudden change of heart. Then he remembered what the headmaster had told Snape in a hushed whisper before he'd left. "His uncle says his not eating and he never sleeps. His aunt says that she's find napkins filled with food in the trash; says that he was making it look like he was eating when he wasn't. Just make sure he eats something." That was all Harry had heard before he'd turned away, not wishing to hear the two disscuss about him as if he weren't there; he got enough of that at the Dursleys'.
Taking in a deep breath, Harry said, very calmly, "I don't know what all Dumbledore told you, but I don't need a keeper." With that, he pushed the door open and headed up to his room. Once there, Harry found that his hunger had abandoned him. Laying his food and drink on the desk, he walked over to the massive window that was to the left of his bed. Climbing onto the sill, he sat with his legs pulled into his chest and his chin resting on his up drawn knees. There, he watched a shooting star fly across the moon lit sky, and prepared to sit out another long, lonely night.
Unknown to him, his door was ajar, and Snape was looking in on the boy, knowing that he had no right to tell the him what to do and wishing he could just order him to eat. Without making any noise, Snape pulled the door shut and walked with a heavy heart to his own room, knowing that he, too, would be watching the night sky and fretting about the demons that stalked his new ward.